


free falling

by Amy_Stark117



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Mentions of Death, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan References, Titans, alternate universe - Attack on Titan, it's an aot au what did you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-28 23:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30147375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amy_Stark117/pseuds/Amy_Stark117
Summary: You’re already looking at him when he looks back at your table, and you offer him one last wave with a bashful and sweet smile, and he feels a thundering in his chest that rivals the force of the Titans that beat their fists on the walls where he works.He brushes off the questions of his friends and makes comments about damned Survey Corps acting like they own the place. It seems to work for now, but he knows his friends can feel there’s something up. But he needs to figure that out first before they do.In which Iwaizumi falls in love with a fellow soldier. And he falls harder than he's ready for.(*AN ATTACK ON TITAN AU*)
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	free falling

**Author's Note:**

> this came to me randomly and i had to write it down because whats better than putting my two loves/obsessions together?? probably a lot of things but this is all i can give to you LMAO  
> please let me know if i need to add more tags!!  
> enjoy reading, feedback is very much appreciated!!

**1.**

Sometimes, there’s nothing that Iwaizumi appreciates more than a stiff drink after a long day of work on the Wall.

His body aches and protests as he leans forward in his chair, diligently writing his letter to his best friend who’s living it up inside Wall Sina with the Military Police while he slaves away every day and night on Wall Rose’s defenses. Hanamaki and Matsukawa sit next to him, deep in their discussion about some fight they had to break up between rowdy citizens while they were posted on guard duty, waiting for Iwaizumi to finish up with his letter so they can start their weekly tradition of getting shitfaced drunk and enjoy the recovery on their time off the next day.

There’s a good buzz about the tavern, people are talking, Iwaizumi is laughing with his friends as Hanamaki makes eyes with the barmaid who places pitchers of beer on their table, and the entire room is in high spirits (no pun intended). It’s exactly the kind of thing he needs to wind down after a week long of heavy duty work.

And just as he’s finishing up his letter, signing off as always with  _ ‘hope to hear from you soon, shithead’,  _ the pub falls to a hush, and the good atmosphere disappears like heat flying out of a wide open window. 

It’s the wings that draw his eyes first, the infamous insignia of blue and silver Wings of Freedom that almost shine in the lights of the tavern where they sit patched onto Survey Corps military jackets and cloaks. It looks bold, strong, compared to the roses of the Garrison, and he pushes back memories of when he was a child and wished he could be as strong as the soldier in the Survey Corps.

(Growing up meant knowing that they were nothing but a bunch of useless, suicidal idiots that were wasting their time and precious resources that could be going to the starving children he passes on the street every day on his way to work from the barracks.)

The room is deathly silent as they walk past occupied tables and chairs, pairs upon pairs of eyes that are harsh and cold and full of judgement staring at them while boots clunk loudly on the wooden floors.

It’s to Iwaizumi’s dismay that the only table available that can hold a group of what looks to be seven people is the one directly next his, Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s table, shrugging off jackets and cloaks until that damned insignia glares directly at him.

Suddenly the alcohol turns to dirt in his mouth.

A stocky looking fellow with brown hair and a strong face waves down the nervous barmaid, asking for some bottles of wine and passing a few coins her way. She scurries off like a mouse as Matsukawa leans conspiratorially into the table, his thick brows furrowed in suspicion and confusion. 

“What are they doing here?”

Hanamaki scoffs. “Their headquarters are stationed near us, remember? Guess they have every right to be here as we do.”

Hanamaki sounds bitter as he says it, though, and Iwaizumi agrees with the complaint Makki keeps hidden. 

The Survey Corps reek of death and misery, and Iwaizumi doesn’t want to be anywhere near them, as if they’re a bad omen just waiting to curse every person in the room.

Over the course of the night, everyone tries to return to some semblance of normality, but the mood was effectively slaughtered by the Titan maniacs as soon as they opened the door, and Iwaizumi finds it hard to get any sort of buzz off the drink that now tastes like piss in his mouth, too uncomfortable with the heads that smile and talk and laugh like normal beside him.

Just as the group give up on getting drunk at this tavern and decide to venture further to the next village in hopes of finding better ale and people, he turns in his seat to rise as an empty cup clatters to the ground and rolls to his feet, bouncing gently against his feet while the table adjacent to his own erupts in laughter.

He huffs in annoyance as he bends over to pick it up, but as his hands wrap around the mug, a smaller pair to his own accidentally covers his and he raises his head, startled, only to have all air in his chest be knocked out of him in one smooth whoosh.

He locks eyes with the most stunning pair he’s ever seen, their colour as vibrant and as stunning as the wonders of nature, shining as bright as the view of the rising sun from atop Wall Rose, when it peeks behind the clouds, the trees, the mountains, and gives life and love to their little world. 

Once he can (with great difficulty) look away from those eyes that make his heart beat faster than he’s ever known it to, he takes in features of a woman who is more beautiful than any of the rich women Oikawa describes in his letters.

You have a strong look about you, as if you were raised by the earth itself, a child born of the grass and stone, of the earth and wood, but there’s a playfulness in your gaze that tells him of a softer side, that this child of the earth learned to walk and talk with the fairies of the stories he’d read as a child, the ones who would play pranks on their friends and steal kisses from their lovers. A forest nymph who prances with flowers growing in her hair and steals the hearts of young men like him who are too weak to stop it.

You smile at him with an apologetic look, and his stomach twists in a way different to the churning of alcohol in his system when he sees the soft curl of your lips, and he has to physically shake his head to bring him back down to earth.

“Sorry about that!” you chime, and he faces reddens at how much he enjoys the sound of your voice ringing in his ears like twinkling bells. “Kinoshita was just getting up to piss and knocked it over, my bad!”

It’s almost laughable how despite the crudeness of your words, he doesn’t mind it at all, and it only adds to your charm, to this happy aura he can feel coming from you like warmth from the fireplace.

He can only manage a grunt; a low, unfriendly sound that sounds like a complaint, and his brows knit in frustration with himself for his mouth being too dry to say anything of use. You don’t mind it though, simply smile in gratitude as he hands over the cup to you.

His hands brush yours for the briefest of moments, and his fingertips tingle for the rest of the night.

“Thanks! Sorry if we disturbed you. Enjoy your night, see ya around!”

And with that, you return to the table, taking your place next to a silver haired man who looks at Iwaizumi with a knowing smirk, and it takes everything in him to keep his face blank instead of throwing him a scowl. 

He rushes to gather his things with his friends watching and waiting in bewilderment, and just before he leaves the pub he has to turn around once more, has to catch your face, has to commit your features to memory in case he doesn’t see you again-

You’re already looking at him when he looks back at your table, and you offer him one last wave with a bashful and sweet smile, and he feels a thundering in his chest that rivals the force of the Titans that beat their fists on the walls where he works.

He brushes off the questions of his friends and makes comments about damned Survey Corps acting like they own the place. It seems to work for now, but he knows his friends can feel there’s something up. But he needs to figure that out first before they do.

That night, he dreams of wings and flowers, and of forest nymphs who giggle behind the trees as they beckon the poor lost souls to come closer.

(Iwaizumi stands on the wall like he always does; strong, sturdy, but for once he let’s his eyes wander just a little bit over the edge, to the place he’s never dared to look before, the place that holds nothing there for him.

He doesn’t see much, but he feels that, over time, more will be revealed than he’s ready to see.)

**2.**

He sees you in the pub again a week later, this time in a smaller group of three like his own and still wearing the Wings of Freedom and judgemental stares on your back.

The smirking one from last week is also there again, and notices him first, kicking your leg and directing your attention to Iwaizumi who’s already been staring at your form as soon as he noticed it.

You look surprised for a second, and duck your head almost bashfully (he hopes) before raising it again and giving him a wave with a big grin, one he returns in a daze as he’s directed into his seat by a snickering Matsukawa.

He’s momentarily distracted by the pub owner who comes to greet them and take their usual order, but when all is said and done, it’s Hanamaki who kicks him in the knee under the table to pull his attention back upwards to see you standing there, flanked by your two comrades - the silver haired one who offers everyone a smile as cheeky as your own, and a shorter, strawberry blonde who wears a small smile, but has a sharpness to his gaze. 

“Hi there! Remember me? I was the one who you handed the cup to when it dropped.”

Iwaizumi stays silent and stone faced, too internally shocked to say anything until Hanamaki kicks him roughly again as your face begins to morph into an expression of embarrassment. 

“Y-Yes. Yeah. I do. Remember you. Cup girl. Friend had to piss.”

Smooth. 

He can’t hide the grimace on his face when his friends snort behind him, but you laugh it off good naturedly.

“Yeah, that’s me. Good memory you have!”

He’s not going to tell you that he has a good memory simply because he’s been thinking about you 24 hours out of every day for the past week.

“I know this might sound strange, but I was thinking you might like to share a drink with us? I mean we’re all fellow soldiers, right? We can enjoy a few drinks together, share stories, that sort of thing.”

There’s a few moments of tense silence as everyone processes your request, as they mentally contemplate sitting with these Survey Corps soldiers who have nothing but bad reputations following them everywhere they go.

Iwaizumi would love to sit here and watch you talk all evening, but he’s not sure about his friends, and he’d have to put his friends’ feelings first before this pretty stranger who he’s barely talked to for five minutes.

His mouth works to say no, but the words just can’t pass his lips as you stare at him expectantly, and the smaller one beside you starts to scowl with impatience. At Iwaizumi’s failure to answer, Matsukawa speaks up with a voice that tells Iwaizumi he’s close to laughing.

“I don’t see why not. A couple of drinks wouldn’t hurt.”

Iwaizumi is grateful for his friends despite the looks they send him, looks that almost feel like a knife pointed at his back to force him to just explain what the fuck is going on with him later on, and he nods slightly, knowing he owes them an explanation and an apology for sitting with these strangers.

With a grin that twinkles like the stars above you pull out some chairs while your friends follow suit, introducing them as Sugawara and Yaku respectively, and give your own. He repeats your name over and over in his head, takes a liking to the sound of it echoing through his heart. Makki and Mattsun give lazy waves when he introduces them, and finally says his own. You smile warmly.

“Iwaizumi,” you repeat, rolling the name on your tongue, and if he thought your name sounded nice in his heart, his own falling from your lips sounds even better. “I like that name. It’s nice to meet you all!”

“Likewise,” Makki drawls, and Iwaizumi almost misses the side eye in favour of watching the way wisps of your hair fall on your face. He delivers a kick stronger than the ones Hanamaki gave him, and delights in the grunt of pain that follows.

“Do you come here often?” Sugawara asks politely. 

“Often enough,” Matsukawa answers with a sip of his ale. “Not much fun to be had when you repair the walls or get stuck with guard duty. Drinking ourselves silly is about the most entertaining thing we can do until we get our breaks.”

“What about you? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here much before.” Iwaizumi hopes he doesn’t sound too nosy in his search to know more about you. 

“We usually enjoy our drinks back at HQ, but it gets a little sad just drinking amongst yourselves, y’know?” you laugh lightly, fold your arms atop the table and lean closer into Iwaizumi’s proximity. He fights down the blush rising to his face but he’s positive you feel the heat emanating from it anyway. “I like the buzz of the pubs. I like meeting new people.”

You smile demurely at Iwaizumi. He quickly picks up his drink and takes a huge gulp.

“Plus,” Sugawara adds quietly,”it’s nice to try and relax before our next expedition. You never know what might change when you come back.”

A somber silence has fallen upon the table now. Too many times Iwaizumi has seen those same Wings of Freedom you wear on your chest ride off into the distance from his position at the top of the wall, and too many times have those wings returned with fewer numbers than they rode out with, splattered in blood and ripped apart. 

“How do you do it?” Iwaizumi speaks into the quiet, shattering the glass with a bloodied fist. He sounds bitter, he knows he does, but he can’t quite tone it down. The Survey Corps, with their titan fanaticism and suicidal policies, will forever confuse him, and he will never understand why anyone would willingly give their lives for the walls. “How could you just waste all that time and effort just to die-”

“Because there’s more of the world to see - more resources to bring back for everyone that lives  _ inside  _ the walls,” there is no anger or scrutiny in the lines of your face compared to his, only determination, resolution. Yet he sees the sorrows that swirl in your eyes, the ghosts of regrets and friends that no doubt haunt you. “We owe it to them, and our fallen allies, to make the world a better place, to make it  _ free _ . We’re the only ones who are willing to do it.”

“...well then you’re insane,” is what Iwaizumi says in response, a light scoff passing his lips. You don’t look put off by his response at all, only laugh in amusement. Yaku looks miffed, however, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair with an eye roll. “A band of idiots only too happy to run head first into death.”

“Wow, how original,” Yaku snarks. Iwaizumi didn’t expect this short stack to be as fiery as he is, and adds him to the list of reasons why the Survey Corps sucks. “Did you think of that one all by yourself? Don’t try too hard or you’ll hurt your brain-”

“Yaku, calm down,” you pat both his and Iwaizumi’s shoulders, and he revels in the contact, allows it to distract him from throttling the little demon across the table. “It’s nothing new we haven’t heard before, huh? We wear it like a badge of honour at this point!”

That sounds so fucking miserable to Iwaizumi’s ears and he starts to feel inklings of shame knowing he’s just like the rest who point fingers and drag the name of the Survey Corps through pig shit.

You turn to give Iwaizumi a smile. “Besides - one day, us Survey Corps loonies will save the world, and you pretty roses in the Garrisons will be bowing down at our feet.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa immediately erupt in jokes and snide remarks, but your comment worked to release the tension that was choking all of them. While Sugawara and Yaku defend the Corps against the Garrison, Iwaizumi’s eyes haven’t left yours, and the hand that was resting on his shoulder slides downwards to his forearm, just before his wrist, and gives a friendly affectionate squeeze. His heart stills in his chest while his gut swirls like a violent storm, and he can’t do much to prevent the reddening of his ears when you lean into his space.

“I’ll prove it to you someday,” you promise, speaking low enough for only his ears, and your eyes hold a certain mischief and conviction that reminds him of Oikawa when he was vouching for the No.1 spot in the training regiment. “I’ll come knocking on your door just to rub it in your face.”

The corners of Iwaizui’s lips curl up before he’s even aware of it until he’s grinning right back at you, saving the image of you biting your lip cheekily to ruminate on later.

“Well,” he chuckles, and raises his drink in your direction whilst you do the same. “Look forward to it.”

Your drinks clink together as you both take a gulp, washing down silly promises of the future in favour of focusing on the now.

You talk for hours after that, deep into your cups with flushed cheeks and endless laughter. You tell him all about your time in training with your friends, about your adventures in Wall Maria, how you wish to see past that doomed wall that fell a few years prior, to the world beyond, about the oddities of the Survey Corps that are as much a family to you as your own flesh and blood. He tells you about his own friends, about how he never made the Top Ten to follow Oikawa to Wall Sina, how he spent his childhood days playing soldiers versus titans much to his parents dismay.

He didn’t notice when your comrades slipped out of the pub, nor when Hanamaki and Matsukawa made their own exit, too caught up in listening to you babble on about everything and nothing at all, talking at speeds his drunken brain can barely catch up to as he eventually opts to lose himself in the soft lilts and tones of your voice, like a lullaby from the sweetest singer.

It’s only when the pub owner interrupts with a gentle cough does he see just how empty the tavern is, and the old man cracks some joke about young lovers being too in their heads while you stumble and hold onto each other with faces of crimson.

There’s an awkward moment as you step outside in the frigid air, as the cold bites at your burning faces and you simply look at each other and smile.

“See you next week?” you ask hopefully, and Iwaizumi nods immediately, already looking forward to spending another night in your presence. 

“Can’t wait,” he admits, and the giggle you emit goes straight to his heart.

You turn and stumble down the road holding onto your trusted horse who looks too fed up with your behaviour, and he can’t stop glancing backwards at your figure as he trudges in the opposite direction back to his own barracks, ready to wake dumb and dumber up to berate them for leaving him alone to stumble in the dark.

That night he dreams of warm hands, of the most charming smiles and promises that are almost strong enough to give him determination, to give him hope.

He knows they’re all lies, they always were. But from you, maybe they can change.

(Iwaizumi dares to take a few steps closer to the edge of the wall; not enough to send him into danger of falling, but farther than he’s gone in a long time.

It scares him, to suddenly be closer to the edge, but it scares him even more when he feels a certain thrill course through his tired bones.)

**3.**

It’s become a new tradition to drink with the Survey Corps every weekend when they arrive at the tavern.

The Garrison trio have warmed up to the members of the military branch immensely. Where once there was unease and distrust, now there is only jokes and laughter, affectionate claps on the back and offers to buy the next round. Most of the time it’s just you, more often than not with Suga and Yaku in tow (the friends you’re closest with, you explained to him one night. They dote on you like a little sister, and you’re certainly not going to complain when they pass you some more meat because they think you’re not eating enough), but sometimes it’s more - your other comrades, the stable hands, the captains. He’s come to realise that whatever sort of notions he had of the Survey Corps beforehand were all stupid lies from the ignorant. The lot of ‘loonies’ he’s met have to be some of the most intelligent and talented people he’s ever met. Sure, he still may think that your life’s mission is foolish, but he no longer sits with a vicious lack of understanding for their goal in life.

The locals don’t stare in disdain as much as they did before. Perhaps they’ve just become accustomed to seeing the wings sitting at the same old table, and the old man who runs it certainly isn’t turning away the money and polite company. It’s better for everyone that way, and the lighter atmosphere puts everyone at ease.

You’ve sat by his side for weeks now, to the point that no one even dares to occupy that seat anymore, knowing it’s been long reserved so that you can remain glued to his side, whispering jokes into his ear at Yaku’s expense while he relays all the embarrassing moments Makki has gone through for you to use as blackmail for the night.

But tonight is different.

Tonight you only have one drink, and when you’ve finished it and pushed the mug away, you lean over and brush your lips to his ear accidentally, and he grows delirious at the sensation, at your lips that tickle his skin, light as petals.

“Want to get some fresh air?”

At first he’s confused, and his forehead creases as he tries to discern why you would possibly want to go out when you’ve just started drinking. But then you tilt your head in the direction of the door with raised brows, and from his position behind you where you can’t see, Sugawara makes desperate motions with his hands, encouraging him to take you up on your offer. 

Immediately his face heats up and his mind races with all sorts of ideas about what could possibly happen once you exit the pub. All he can manage in his stupor is a nod of his head, and he feels like the angels have blessed him as you take his hand and begin leading him outside as Yaku stares in bewilderment and Mattsun wolf whistles.

“Where the hell are they going, Suga-”

“Shut up Morisuke! Let them have this!”

Your captain, a man he’s come to respect by the name of Daichi, flashes you a  _ look,  _ one a dad might give to his daughter when she’s caught with a boy, but there’s a teasing smile playing at his lips as he tells you to be safe while you pinch his cheek, and Iwaizumi is close to giving a salute out of panic when his dark eyes meet his. But Daichi just inclines his head, and Iwaizumi returns it before you whisk him out of the building and up a nearby hill that overlooks the villages and the Survey Corps Headquarters.

Shades of purples and blue paint the sky like strokes from an artist's brush, dotted by the stars that begin to make their presence known, shining one by one as the sun sets and makes way for the moon to rise.

He could never truly appreciate the views while working on the wall, too busy lugging cargo and fixing broken knobs to take a step back and appreciate the splendors of nature, made all the better as he looks over to where you lay on the grass next to him, with wildflowers curling into your hair and around your ears, much like the forest nymph he pictured you to be all that time ago.

The night sky is beautiful, it really is, but not quite so breathtaking as the sight of you when you smile at him.

It’s a night for little talk and long pauses to breathe in the fresh air and take comfort in the warmth of your bodies next to each other, fingers just shy of touching, too afraid to make the jump and hold your hand like he so longs to but not wanting to cross that boundary.

When what little conversation there is turns to the Survey Corps like it always seems to do, you turn to face him with the smallest of frowns, and his heart leaps to his throat.

“Why do you hate us so much?” you whisper, and his heart cracks in two, for more reasons than just upsetting you.

He wasn’t sure when he’d have to open this can of worms again, but he knew it would have to come sooner or later.

It doesn't make saying the words aloud any easier, though.

“When I was a kid, I always wanted to be a soldier. Like I told you.” Iwaizumi can’t quite look at you as he speaks, focusing his attention onto this one little star that flickers brightly like the flame of a candle, but he knows all your attention is on  _ him,  _ sees it in the way you nod your head from the corner of his eye. “Well it wasn’t because I wanted to live a good life in Wall Sina with my friends. Not really. It was because I-”

His throat bobs up and down as he swallows uneasily, tries to force the words out while they attempt to stay buried deep in his chest. You wait patiently in silence.

“It was because I wanted to be like my uncle.”

His body feels as though it’s begun to deflate, sinking into the soft earth as he finally utters the truth he’s kept hidden for years.

“My uncle was like my best friend growing up - always making time for me, playing games, taking me everywhere. He understood me when my parents couldn’t. I looked up to him the most in my life. I never wanted to be like anybody else but him. He was the best, and I loved him so much.”

He pauses, takes a deep breath to relieve the tightness of his throat, blinks away the burning feeling in his eyes. 

“My uncle was a soldier serving under the Survey Corps,” he elaborates, and he’s acutely aware of how you’ve gone stiff with tension, no doubt already put two and two together. These kinds of stories always end the same. Every story from the Survey Corps  _ ends the same.  _ “He died on an expedition outside Wall Maria. There wasn’t anything left of him to bring back and bury.”

Your hand latches onto his before he’s even finished speaking, and he wishes now more than ever to be holding your hand under much happier circumstances, to trace his fingers over the calluses of your hands earned from years of hard work without his heart aching over the loss of his Uncle.

“I’m so sorry, Iwaizumi,” you mumble with a voice laced in sorrow, but you know as well as he does that they’re just empty words. No apologies could ever bring back his family. “...he was trying to keep you safe, I’ll bet.” He shakes his head angrily.

“I hate the Survey Corps for taking my uncle away from me,” he spits to the sky, resolutely ignoring the tears that have now escaped from the corners of his eyes and run down the surface of his cheeks. “I hate them for their stupid need to get themselves killed in search of this bullshit concept of freedom. If they never existed he- he wouldn’t have gotten himself killed, he would still be at home helping my dad with the farm and stealing fruit from my mother, and carrying me around on his shoulders, and-  _ and-” _

He can’t say any more.

He’s crying harder than he has done in years, since the day he heard the news of his uncle; a blubbering mess of a boy instead of the dependable man he’s made himself out to be in the Garrison. He hiccups and he stutters and he shakes as the tears fall like rivers, and he latches onto you so tightly he’s half afraid he’ll snap you in half but you hold him just as fiercely, cooing softly into his ear while you stroke his head, and he’s amazed at how long he’s managed to bottle all of this up inside him for years without spilling over.

He mutters out apologies into the fabric of your cloak,  _ ‘I’m sorry’  _ spilling from his lips like wine pouring into a glass, but you whisper that its ok, you’re here, you have him, and he sinks into your warmth and frame as if it’s a blanket made especially for him.

His cries die down after a while, and he rests his head on your stomach while you continue to pet his head softly. The feeling makes his eyes droopy, makes him feel sleepy, and he loses control over his lips as he nears dreamland.

“I don’t want to lose you too,” he confesses, letting his eyes slip close as you hum gently.

“You won’t,” you murmur, half convinced he’s asleep already. Maybe he is. Maybe this is all a wonderful fantasy in his head. “You won’t lose me.”

It’s another promise to add to your list, and Iwaizumi hopes more than anything that you’ll keep it.

That night he dreams of his uncle, of flying high on the shoulders of the person he adores, and of fingers that run through his hair and weave affection and love into the threads.

(He’s right at the edge now, sees the open fields spread out before him that reaches far beyond the horizon, sees the long drop that makes him break out in a sweat and make his heart chug in his ribcage.

But he somehow knows he’ll be ok if he falls. He knows somehow,  _ someone  _ will be there to catch him.)

**4.**

Something has changed between the pair of you since that night.

The air is different, more relaxed, more trusting, and his heart grows tighter in his chest with every thought of you in his mind. Hanamaki and Matsukawa make fun of him, tell him that he’s fallen in love and are wondering when the wedding was happening, and while before he would have told them to shut the fuck up with a fist aimed at their faces, now he just grumbles as he continues his work, head low to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

He has completely fallen head over heels for you, and he’s not one bit sorry.

He feels like a teenager again when his heart sings at the sight of you, when his skin tingles with every brush of skin, when he gets lightheaded from your proximity to him as you lay your head on his shoulder to stare at the stars.

And he drinks every second of it up like a man dying of thirst.

Nights at the tavern turned to late night walks and explorations of the villages and other places. His friends didn’t mind, now that they had new company to keep them entertained, and encouraged him to make the most of his time with you. Every moment spent with you is locked away in his heart for safe keeping, to help keep him warm on nights that seem too cold for his bones, to keep him safe in only a way you know how.

But the thing he’s been dreading most has finally arrived. A new expedition for the soldiers of the Survey Corps to venture into Wall Maria next week looms over the heads of everyone in the pub tonight like a shadow. The tall one he’s come to know as Lev suggested everyone go to the tavern for ‘one last hurrah’ as he’d put it, one last night of high spirits and celebration before they embark on their dangerous mission.

For all the mirth and optimism that flows through the packed tables that night, it seems more so like a front, a facade to hide the nerves that eat away at everyone here. He can see it in the way that Daichi, a man of kindness as much as he is steel, can’t stop the bounce to his leg underneath the table, can see it in the way Suga babbles far too much and far too fast as if he wants to use up all his words in case they’re taken away, can even see it in the way Yaku refuses to give into the gripes that Mattsun tosses his way like he wants his last memories to be conflict free. 

You stay there for a few hours with your friends, chatting to Makki and Mattsun one last time because once the night is over, you’ll be too busy in the next week to see any of the boys from the Garrison until the day comes when they have to raise the gate to let the Corps pass through to start their mission.

He feels selfish for wanting you all to himself tonight, for wanting to take you away from the room and hold you in his arms and not let you go so you can’t run off like his Uncle did and leave him alone, but he has to wait until you give him the signal, until you squeeze his hand tightly and lead him out of the room like you have every weekend. And when you finally do, he’s the one to lead you out instead, taking his time saying goodbyes to the friends he’s made over the past few months and exchanging well wishes, before he drags you up to the hill where he poured his heart out, and drags you up further still, to sit at the base of a huge tree as you look out over all the homes lit up in the dark.

He wastes no time in holding you close to his chest, placing you in his lap as he disregards the blush on his cheeks as he does so, and you make yourself comfortable on the hard plains of his chest while he rubs his broad hand up and down your back. He counts the lights he can see, all the windows that house families, the lovers who wrap themselves up in their blankets, and feels envy for a life he didn’t know he longed for until now.

“I’m scared about the expedition,” you admit shakily, and it shatters his heart into pieces. There are no words that can ever help in situations like this, so he instead reminds you of your convictions.

“Why did you join the Survey Corps?” he asks. He already got an answer weeks ago, but it didn’t truly satisfy him then, and it doesn’t satisfy him now.

It takes you a while to respond as you enjoy the warmth of his embrace. He breathes you in, the warm scent of wood and leather from your uniform, the soft texture of your hair as it tickles his face, the nimble fingers that slot into the spaces between his own to hold on tight. You finally speak after a while of just listening to the bugs and the owls sing their nightly songs.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to make a change. That I wanted to see the world beyond this cage.”

Your words are delicate, like a gust of wind could carry them away in a heartbeat, forever to be lost and never heard again. He gives you a squeeze, encouraging you to continue.

“But I can’t do any of that, until the Titans are dealt with. And the only people who want to do that are the Corps. I could live a nice life in the walls where it’s safe, but it’s only a matter of time before Wall Rose comes tumbling down, just like Maria, and then we’re in real trouble.

“When Wall Rose came down, and I saw all the refugees flood into the towns looking all sorts of scared and distraught, I decided right then and there that I would become a soldier. That I would get rid of the Titans, because I didn’t want to see any more crying children, didn’t want to see people die and wither away on the streets.”

You both take a deep breath simultaneously, exhaling memories of trauma and grief, of seeing the weary cry out to hold their lovers who were long gone. His gut churns uneasily at the images that are burned into his brain, twists at the new ones that have been clawing their way into his dreams lately, visions of your sweet smile covered in blood, distorted and twisted like a Titans-

He swallows, tries to get rid of the stress forming in his throat.

“...I realised that if I don’t do something, who will?” you continue. If you feel how stiff his body has gone, you don’t mention it. “I have people I want to keep safe. People like  _ you.” _

He looks at you in mild surprise when you lift your head to look him right in the eye. His heart begins to beat faster in his chest, a heavy pounding that he’s sure you feel against your skin.

“You mean a lot to me, Iwaizumi.” His breath hitches. “And because of that, like your uncle, I want to keep you safe, and do everything I can to give you a better life. This is why I joined the Survey Corps. To make sure the people I care about don’t ever have to go through that kind of misery.”

“I…”

He’s struck silent. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he wants you to know, but words fail him. He was never one for fanciful stories or pick up lines, but he wishes now more than anything he could let you know, even a  _ fraction _ , just how much he adores you.

“Please, come back safe,” is what he settles for, the words stern, hiding the nerves he feels deep down. You smirk, but it’s soft like satin, and warms his heart. 

“Just for you,” you promise one more time, the words brushing against his cheeks as you give him a peck, and he cradles you to his body all night long, right up until the last second when he has to let you go back to HQ.

When he finally enters his barracks to see his friends waiting for him, they berate him for not kissing you like he should have. He agrees, because Iwaizumi wanted more, wanted to feel your lips on his as he pours all his heart and soul has to offer in your hands, but he decides he’ll make his own promise to himself.

If-  _ when  _ you come back from your expedition, he’s going to do it. He’s going to tell you he loves you, that everything he is and ever will be is yours if you’ll have it. And he’ll kiss you so hard until you’re both seeing stars, and then he’ll kiss you some more.

He swears to himself,  _ he will.  _ Because he believes, as does Hanamaki and Matsukawa, that you’ll all make it back. Maybe it’s foolish, but for once, allows himself to be optimistic, to wish.

That night he dreams of a blanket of stars, of shared kisses and hopes for the future, and a fear of the unknown that he turns his back on.

(Iwaizumi hangs one foot over the wall, and falls off the edge. It’s weightless, and it’s free, because he has fallen in love and can't stop himself, wearing a wide grin because it’s the happiest he has been in a very,  _ very  _ long time.)

**5.**

Iwaizumi was too busy to watch any of the Survey Corps returning to the gates after the expedition, too busy fixing a stupid fucking elevator and chewing his nails off to be able to run down and greet the friends he made after their dangerous journey.

But from the solemn, pale faces of his friends that evening as they told him what they saw from their positions high on the wall, he’s not sure if he really wanted to see the soldiers return.

When the Survey Corps left, it was with 100 soldiers strong, and their wings flew down the fields with haste to start their mission. He had given you one last smile, and you had returned it with your own as Commander Smith gave a rousing speech to his loyal soldiers to strengthen their hearts and minds. And then you were gone, racing out of the gates with a face like steel.

When the Survey Corps returned, however, it was with just under half of them dead, the rest injured or barely walking. Apparently that was a spectacular turn out for the Corps, as around 80% were expected to not return and live to fight another day. 

The numbers are grave and it all sounds so fucking morbid, but it allows him to hang onto that little seed of hope blooming in his heart that you made it back alive. This was your third expedition - you already survived two of them that ended up much worse than this. You can survive another.

With no way of leaving his post or any way to visit the Survey Corps HQ without a real motive aside from personal reasons of wanting to make sure you’re still breathing with all your limbs still intact, Iwaizumi is forced to play the waiting game until you show up, an agonising period of doubts and fear eating away at his thoughts. He’s injured himself on more than one occasion while at work, distracted with memories of your voice and the warmth of your skin, of daydreams where he can finally press his lips to yours.

He waits in the tavern that same weekend, Makki and Mattsun waiting just as nervously by his side, drinks untouched on the table that has five empty seats surrounding it. The room is far too quiet for his liking, and it seems as though even the locals are nervous now, too used to seeing the jovial faces of the soldiers with wings, spreading smiles where they went. 

He waited all night, but not a single soul stepped through that doorway.

He tries to not let it get to him. It was expected, after all. With the heavy losses suffered, he knew that no one would be waltzing into the tavern looking for a drink and a laugh. No doubt you’re all in mourning over fallen comrades, trying to deal with the blow dealt by another failed expedition, and he  _ knows  _ that he won’t be seeing anyone from the Corps in a while.

That doesn’t make the wait easier, however.

They go to the pub again the next week, and the week after, waiting impatiently for the moment you’ll walk through the door again. And just when he loses all hope for another night, ready to cut his losses and try again the following week, the tavern door opens, and his heart fucking  _ soars  _ when the sees the green cloaks with the Wings of Freedom insignia shuffle into the room with heavy, downtrodden steps.

A few soldiers trickle in the doorway. You’re not one of them.

His heart plummets to the ground.

Yaku is the only one he recognises, wearing bags under his eyes darker than coal and with eyes that shine with unshed tears. He wanders over to the bar and flags the barmaid down for a whiskey, and she serves it to him with a sympathetic smile and a pat to his hand. And when Yaku’s head rises to look about the room, he catches the eyes of his friends from the Garrison, and whatever stoic facade he had kept up until then comes crashing down as his face falls into one of guilt and misery when looks at Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi sits frozen in his seat, numb to the feeling of his friends’ hands as they rub his back, numb to the way his hands shake (is it anger? Panic?) where they rest on his lap, numb to the way his heart sits dead like a stone in his chest. He’s just numb, numb,  _ numb. _

You didn’t make it back.

You promised him you would, but you never came back. 

You’re gone.

He feels like he’s about to vomit.

His hearing goes funny when Yaku breaks down into tears at their table, giving gory details that no one really asked for, crying about how he lost both you  _ and  _ Suga (shit, Sugawara too?), and how he hasn’t slept once since he came back.

Iwaizumi is like a statue the entire time, putting all his focus into not fainting on the spot, but after a solid ten minutes of listening to Yaku sob uncontrollably, he swallows down air with a tongue that feels like sandpaper, and asks, “where is she?”

His friends stay silent with grief and his eyes grow blurry as Yaku goes through another round of guilt and tears, saying he’s sorry over and over again and how he failed to get to you in time when the Titan snatched you up, but eventually he blurts out that there was just enough of you left to bring home to bury. Nothing more than a half bitten torso and your beautiful face that he’s dreamed about so many times, but it’s enough to throw into a grave with the rest.

This time he really does get sick, running out of the building to empty his stomach up until he’s heaving, and he blindly stumbles his way up the the spot where he last spoke to you, and cries until there’s no more tears left in his body and all he can do is shake and convulse and wish you were here holding him and whispering sweet words into his ears until he passes out.

But you’re not here. You’re buried in the ground, like the child of the earth he always knew you to be.

And he’s left all alone once more.

That night, he dreams of blood, of tears and sorrow, of empty hands grasping for a body that isn’t there, of a stupid promise of freedom that ended in lies and torment. 

He dreams of lost kisses, empty declarations of affection, of a love that was destroyed before it bloomed to its fullest.

(Iwaizumi is free falling off the edge, because he let himself fall in love, let himself take a leap of faith.

But when he opens his eyes, all he sees is the ground hurtling towards him, and no one is there to catch him anymore.) 


End file.
